Nights
by JazzyLittleMonster
Summary: A complete oneshot. Gets a tad graphic in a necessary way, for sickness, hence the T. Set in AngelCollins' apartment on a nondescript night during the AIDS epidemic: Some people leave, others stay.


_A/N: I don't own the characters/ RENT. Randomly felt the need to write this and thought I may as well share. Enjoy._

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Nights

He stirs, pain wringing his center and shooting outwards like liquid electricity. His left foot is numb and his right one is tingling, he's spinning, it's messy and scary and messy and he feels his insides writhing with the pain; they can't hold it in, it's coming, it's coming out, he shits himself. Confused and crying - big woeful sobs like you wouldn't expect from him, because it's dark and no-one's listening so he can let his guard down - he struggles to hold consciousnes, sinking in the spinning vastness of his head and the gooey mess of his shit; it smells so bad he would be wretching even if it weren't for the churning of his stomach. He tastes iron in his mouth, but he hasn't felt anything come up his throat so it must be the lesion on the inside of his cheek; burst maybe. He's crying so loud his ears ring but it's not making any sound because his glands are the size of walnuts so they block his throat and his chapped lips barely open. But the hoarse wail is enough, or maybe it's the smell of the shit that wakes the man curled comfortably next to him. Collins' sleepy eyes wrestle to focus as his brows knot with concern and he drags himself up, inspecting anxiously, "What, baby? What happened?"

Through the haze, the pain, his chocolate rumbling voice washes over Angel soothingly. Frightened, Collins is picking him up and carrying him to the bathroom, barely able to choke out words when he sees the blood in the shit on the mattress. Angel wants to hold him, wants to wrap his small body fully around Collins, pressed so close he can feel his heart beat through his back, and feel like he's protecting him. But although it hurts him to scare his Collins like this, he is heart-breakingly thankful for every touch, every soothing word, as Collins strips them both off and they sit in the bath together, under the spray of cool water.

Skin to skin, it's not the cold but the contact, the loving human contact that's bringing Angel back into clarity, stilling the twist of his stomach and dulling the roar in his brain. He becomes conscious of his breathing; it's frantic and strained, no wonder Collins was scared. He feels awful - every day he tells Collins he's surprised he's still there - but at the same time he knows, somewhere deep and warm and secret, that Collins will be there until the very last opportunity. It's terrifying and wonderful: it's love. Collins is wrapped around him now, kissing his bony shoulder blade, big soft lips, nuzzling below his ear, "It's okay baby. We're okay baby." He melts back into him; Collin's soft voice sending shivers to his cock, distracting from the dulled pain. Collins is shivering too, the water is too cool for him, but they stay like that for twenty minutes, half an hour, before Angel eventually quietens and stills enough that Collins can scoop him up from his lap and carry him back to bed, both dripping.

He dries them with the towel by the bed and wraps Angel in it, kissing his nose like a mother. Angel, drowsy and half asleep, eyes lulling closed, tilts his head up when he feels it, and their lips bump in a tender kiss. Collins licks his chapped lips and kisses the corner of his mouth before he pulls back, stroking his soft cheek. The lights from the street signs outside their apartment are illuminating the corner of the room, but otherwise it is dark. It's heavily silent and chilly, Collins is still shivering from the water, and the shit smell, the pungent unhealthy kind, still lingers. Angel opens his eyes and meets Collins', two souls in a dirty east village apartment, everything in the connection between them beautiful. "Love you, baby" Collins mumbles reverently. Angel smiles deeply, pushing out words with some difficulty, "Be careful honey, we can't have you catching a chill because of me".

Collins chuckles as he scoops him up. "You can sleep on my side girl, there's plenty room for both of us." He dresses Angel carefully, in cosy flannel pyjamas, and puts on the old t shirt and boxers he shed earlier. Climbing into bed, he pulls him to his chest, encircling him with his arms, drawing him into his heart. Lucky and blessed, Angel radiates peacefulness as he drifts off to the rhythm of Collins' breath and heart beat.

"Te quiero hermoso" Angel croaks. It's so faint he's sure Collins didn't hear it, but he wanted to put it out there because the delicious feeling was begging to be shared, and he likes to imagine the words will float into Collins' dreams and make them good.

He doesn't know that Collins did hear it, and smiles against his back, lucky and blessed, causing Angel to shift slightly in his semi-sleep. They doze soundly through until morning.

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_According to BabelFish, "Te quiero hermoso" means "Love you, beauitful"_


End file.
